Horrible Parents

Last night I pulled out the camera, dusted it off, and realized we had taken precisely zero pictures of our darling daughter for the last 50 days.  I know, it's borderline criminal.  However, in our defense it was a lot easier to photograph her before she could walk.  Hell, it was way easier before she could move.  It was more of a still life composition.  Now, well, it's more of an action shot of her trying desperately to jam her hands onto the camera lens.  So, we've gone from pictures like this, 8 months ago:

To, well, this:

Yeah, so maybe I understand why the camera hasn't been getting quite the same workout. 

What Is Wrong With You?

When doing some research for a previous post (hey, a lot of research goes into this blog, quit laughing!) I entered "onesie" into Google to check the spelling since, strangely, it does not appear in my spell check.  Well, I was slightly alarmed to see the second recommendation (thanks google!) was "Onesies for adults".  Being a curious sort, I clicked through, and discovered a new world of products with horrific names like "jumpinjammerz" and "funzee."  Now, in theory, the idea of footed coverall pajamas seems kind of appealing, in a not very appealing kind of way, but in practice, well...

Okay, maybe the headless onesie look is unfairly creepy looking.  Let's see how it looks with a person inside...  

Fine, so it's no less creepy.  In fact, it is actually way more creepy.  Super creepy.  In fact, I think I may need a shower.  


But wait, that's not all!  No, not even close.  No, the adult onesie is incredibly versatile;


You can support the armed forces:   

Now, just because they may not see it, don't think they won't feel your support.  It feels like a slight tingling in the back of your knees.

You can apparently, what, poop in it?

Awesome.  

And just because you're wearing an infant's outfit doesn't mean you can't look, uh, sexy?

Maybe it's sexy to someone?  Unfortunately, I think that someone is a pedophile.  

And don't think you disaffected, surly teenagers need to be left out.  There are onesies for them too!!! 

 

They have skulls.  Skulls are badass, right?

And for the imbeciles in your life (you know who they are), well we've got many options for them:

WE'RE FROGS!!!!

I'M FLYING!!!

MY JOINTS DON'T WORK RIGHT!!!!

Look, if you want to dress as a baby, be my guest.  Hell, throw a pair of Depends on under your onesie if it makes you happy.  But please, don't go out in public.  And, google, could you please leave me out of it?  

Moving On Up

Having a child, we were convinced our little condo was more than enough space for the three of us.  After all, it worked well for just the two of us, so adding a third, especially a tiny little person, would be easy-peasy.  Alas, what we didn't realize was that the child is only the tip of a plastic, battery powered, space hogging iceberg.  If you are unfamiliar with what I am talking about here's a three step process to understand. 


Step 1) Go to the house of someone who has a 6-12 month old.  Hopefully they're family or a friend or at least an acquaintance, but if you have to break into some family's home, well, sometimes we have to make a sacrifice for the sake of education.  


Step 2) Close your eyes and take a step.


Step 3) Open your eyes.  That thing you stepped on, that hurt like hell and caused you to stumble into that other thing, which made you totally lose your balance and go crashing into a pile of other crap.  Yeah, that's the plastic shit I'm referring to.


Diapers, diaper genies, changing pads, onesies, , bouncy chairs, swings, slings, cribs, exersaucers, playpens, books, toys, strollers, pack n' plays, etc. etc. etc.  They all infiltrate your life and fill up all the available space in your home, displacing the things you used to have, like floor space and furniture with hard edges.  


But possibly the most annoying thing of the whole process, more than the cost, more than the space crunch, even more than the fact your child will only enjoy any individual item for maybe 2 weeks, is that there is now a region of your brain that is dedicated to remembering and understanding words like "onesie," "exersaucer" and "pack n' play."  Yeah, that's a part of my brain I'm never getting back.  I'd try to kill the brain cells with alcohol, but the only clean glasses we have are sippy cups.  

OCD Toddler

It has been amazing to watch Kiki develop her motor and verbal skills.  It seems like every day she has a new skill and a couple new words (today's were "kayak" and "bird" and I don't know how she got along without them before).  As she learns and grows we're also slowly seeing her personality come out, and well, she seems to have mild OCD.  Nothing too alarming, just a mild penchant for cleanliness.  


For instance, she will request a bath about 4 times a day, though to be fair, oftentimes as a delaying tactic at nap and bed times.  She also loves to wash her hands and would happily do so every 20 minutes.  But most helpful/worrying is her constant efforts to throw things away.  


It all started innocently enough when my wife taught her the word "trash" and showed her how to throw away her dirty diaper.  Seemed like a useful skill, pretty much the first one she had learned in life.  But soon she was picking up anything she could find (blueberries, socks, wallets, small pets) and inquiring if it was trash, oftentimes while holding it over the trash can.  


However, sitting here with the newest season of Hoarders playing in the background, I guess I could think of a few things worse than a love of soap and order.